Re: Grand Battle S3G1! (Round One: Vio Maleficat)
01-13-2011, 12:41 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The foreman lowered his spanner. The neon lines, superimposed above it in the shape of a glowing crossbow rig, braided, rose like a snake ready to strike, and dived unimpeded through the floor with a cetacean squeal. Ripples on a surface only Benjamin could discern lapped through the room while the human and the Telpori-Han locked eye to eye. The pangolin’s gaze flicked warily from one to the other, while Tor tried his best to ignore the scarred, guarded hal that hung about it like an angry ghost.
Jorgensaard bristled, halved the gap between him and Tor with a few earthmoving strides, and made the kind of thunderous noise you’d more expect coming from over a horizon than a human.
“What,” he growled, “gives you the gall to speak to me in such a fashion!?”
The Telpori-Han sighed a little, but didn’t lower his gaze. He started slowly, drawing upon the resentment regeneration hadn’t quite managed to burn off..“You should consider yourself lucky that there’s next to nobody in this facility. If your idea of backup safety procedure is a magician spewing lasers at your main generator-”Tor’s voice couldn’t even aspire to approach Jorgensaard’s stentorian bellow, but he had to admit raising his voice felt pretty good “-then frankly you’re lucky I’m speaking to you INSTEAD OF SPITTING IN YOUR KREKKAD-SMUG FACE!”
Jorgensaard almost shared a glance with an even more nonplussed Benjamin after this outburst. Almost.“NOBODY-” exploded the foreman“-HAS THE RIGHT-”this time, it was Tor and Benjamin taken aback“-TO CLAIM ALDRED JORGENSAARD TAKES ANYTHING MORE SERIOUSLY THAN THE SAFETY OF HIS WORKERS!”
At some point in this exchange, the two men had ended up standing eyes to nose (Tor’s to Joregensaard’s, the latter being appreciably taller). Jetsam just crouched where he’d landed after bounding from the last molotov missile cocktail bolt of Chaos-infused Unity. He was presently busy trying to figure out what anatomical pieces of him, exactly, were aching from the Unity blasts. It was proving difficult.
Tor managed only a glance at the forgotten pangolin, before the roaring in his ears stopped. Trusting his gut more than taking the time to assess the situation, he countered as loudly as he could, “THEN EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THAT PIECE OF DORTUL GENERATOR IS PRIMED TO EXPLODE!”
“I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE-”
“TOR KAJAN, CAPTAIN OF THE PHOENIX, THANK YOU VERY-”
“DO NOT INTERRUPT ME, CAPTAIN KAJAN-”
Benjamin had, while this discussion continued at its eighty-decibel clip, skulked around the wrench-wielding strongman. Between yelling back at Jorgensaard and admiring the magnificent shade of beetroot the man’s ears were turning, Tor momentarily caught his breath and gave Jetsam another fleeting look. He still couldn’t quite keep the confusion off his face at the bizaare sight that was Benjamin’s appearance, but flicked a meaningful finger in the direction of the double doors – the easiest route for the pangolin to leave the hangar.
The man was lost, scared- “-AT LEAST I’M NOT LIKE TALKING TO A BRICK WALL THAT YELLS, SIR-” and above all, deeply mistrustful. If Jetsam couldn’t trust the Telpori-Han enough to stop and listen to him, there was no way he’d go as far as to believe his explanations. Time was of the essence, Tor admitted, but as far as he knew the contestant in the most danger was Scofflaw (if Kerak caught the portly bastard). Which would make his efforts to bring Benjamin up to speed slightly less urgent, in the event they were transported elsewhere.
Jetsam caught Tor’s signal, but made no acknowledgement or thanks as he slunk through the doorway out of sight. His gaze never left the two arguing men, as though he expected them to pounce upon his first moment of inattention. The tangle of corridors beckoned, and the pangolin resumed his loping canter, until he’d disappeared beyond Tor’s range of hearing-
“AND FRANKLY YOU’VE GOT A LOT OF NERVE, SON, TO BE CRITICISING MY WORK!”
Jorgensaard huffed, and stopped standing on his toes (which he’d somewhat unnecessarily begun doing while really getting into the swing of his diatribe). Tor, trying to pick up Jetsam’s footsteps now that the bellowing right by his ears had stopped, finally mustered a filthy look for the foreman. To his surprise, the man was grinning. His upper lip twitched, as though he’d had a moustache to accentuate the movement until that run-in with an over-zealous barber-lobster last week on the daily commute.
“Good pair of lungs on you,”approved the foreman. He extended his beefy hand, which the consummate businessman grasped almost automatically. “Tor Kajan, was it? Aldred Jorgensaard, Head of Operations and Research in this fine Unity Plant. And pretty much every other position, I guess,”added Jorgensaard as an afterthought, regarding the meadow beyond Tor (it was baying for blood and, if the two ringing-eared men were hearing it right, mustard). The Telpori-Han took the opportunity to extract his hand from the crush-grip.
“Anyway! I’m certain it’ll be a most intriguing tale, so Mr. Kajan: how in the name of Lord Mephistopolous did you end up in my factory?”
“I. Uh.”The man had gone from a shouting match to polite conversation faster than the Telpori-Han could feasibly process it. Mercifully for Tor’s sanity, though, Unity seemed to be doing a decent job of keeping things tidy for now. Even the man-eating meadow was quieting. Jorgensaard frowned, looking at his companion.
“Simple enough question, sir. Did Chaos send you here, or did you use Chaos to get here? I don’t recognise you from the agency.”
“I… look, I may as well be honest with you, Mr. Jorgensaard.”Tor sighed as he figured out the most concise method to explain this; he’d need to repeat it all to Jetsam later anyway.“I and seven other individuals were plucked from our homeworlds by an entity, referred to only as the Fool. He selected this world as the first location for… a battle to the death. Some of the other contestants are trying to fix the main generator right now, but I-” here Tor gave a wary look around the hangar as though expecting Scofflaw to be eavesdropping “-that ‘prickly bloody anteater’, as you called it, is one of the contestants – except he’s been dragged between worlds well before he was entered into this ‘battle’. He doesn’t realise he’s in a fight to the death, and I need to tell him. That’s the essence of it.”
Jorgensaard listened expressionlessly until Tor finished, then proceeded to roar with laughter for a good twenty seconds. He cut it off with brutal terseness and fixed Tor with a piercing expression. “No. No, Mr. Kajan. I assure you, I’ve heard - and been - the protagonist of all manner of fantastical stories since I began this line of work. Having said that, nothing – and I mean nothing - was as ridiculous a tale as the one you just tried to spin me.”
The Telpori-Han was astounded. For about two seconds. Then he got angry. Again.
“How can you live in a place like this and claim I’m sounding ridiculous!?”
Jorgensaard grunted dismissively. “Simple. That bear… scales… thing. A Chaos Entity, through and through. Of Vio. No disguising the fact it was born without rhyme and bred with even less reason.”
Tor snarled with frustration.
“That’s because Jetsam is-”
“Enough.”Jorgensaard flicked some catch on the wrench, prompting its jaw to drop half a foot and begin focussing another blast of channeled Chaos. Tor looked tempted to argue, gave the formidable slab of metal in the foreman’s fist a look of loathing, and clamped his mouth shut. A little whine preceded the de-greening of the spanner, which Jorgensaard clutched a little uncomfortably. He still held it at the ready, though.
“Maybe that anteater was right about intruders… but I can deal with you all later. You mentioned the main generator was deteriorating?” Tor nodded, wary. “Right. I’ve got to fix that, then. You’re coming with me, Mr. Kajan.”
“I need to-”The foreman cut off Tor’s protest with a wave of his hand, after adjusting something on his belt and fiddling with his spanner.
“No. Arguments. This is supposed to be a secure facility, confound it. If you and your friends’ll help me, that’s well and good, but-”
The neon green braid, previously seen diving through the concrete floor, poked its sheepshank head out of the closed office door and took a look around, before lunging for the pair. Jorgensaard held that thought, caught the lance of energy smartly in the jaws of the spanner without a second glance, before swinging the whole arrangement overhead and letting the tail end lasso the doorhandle. A tug on the door opened it onto a catwalk, which certainly wasn’t the same room visible through the office window. That now featured an idyllic landscape with beach balls raining all over it.
“After you, sir.”
The foreman lowered his spanner. The neon lines, superimposed above it in the shape of a glowing crossbow rig, braided, rose like a snake ready to strike, and dived unimpeded through the floor with a cetacean squeal. Ripples on a surface only Benjamin could discern lapped through the room while the human and the Telpori-Han locked eye to eye. The pangolin’s gaze flicked warily from one to the other, while Tor tried his best to ignore the scarred, guarded hal that hung about it like an angry ghost.
Jorgensaard bristled, halved the gap between him and Tor with a few earthmoving strides, and made the kind of thunderous noise you’d more expect coming from over a horizon than a human.
“What,” he growled, “gives you the gall to speak to me in such a fashion!?”
The Telpori-Han sighed a little, but didn’t lower his gaze. He started slowly, drawing upon the resentment regeneration hadn’t quite managed to burn off..“You should consider yourself lucky that there’s next to nobody in this facility. If your idea of backup safety procedure is a magician spewing lasers at your main generator-”Tor’s voice couldn’t even aspire to approach Jorgensaard’s stentorian bellow, but he had to admit raising his voice felt pretty good “-then frankly you’re lucky I’m speaking to you INSTEAD OF SPITTING IN YOUR KREKKAD-SMUG FACE!”
Jorgensaard almost shared a glance with an even more nonplussed Benjamin after this outburst. Almost.“NOBODY-” exploded the foreman“-HAS THE RIGHT-”this time, it was Tor and Benjamin taken aback“-TO CLAIM ALDRED JORGENSAARD TAKES ANYTHING MORE SERIOUSLY THAN THE SAFETY OF HIS WORKERS!”
At some point in this exchange, the two men had ended up standing eyes to nose (Tor’s to Joregensaard’s, the latter being appreciably taller). Jetsam just crouched where he’d landed after bounding from the last molotov missile cocktail bolt of Chaos-infused Unity. He was presently busy trying to figure out what anatomical pieces of him, exactly, were aching from the Unity blasts. It was proving difficult.
Tor managed only a glance at the forgotten pangolin, before the roaring in his ears stopped. Trusting his gut more than taking the time to assess the situation, he countered as loudly as he could, “THEN EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THAT PIECE OF DORTUL GENERATOR IS PRIMED TO EXPLODE!”
“I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE-”
“TOR KAJAN, CAPTAIN OF THE PHOENIX, THANK YOU VERY-”
“DO NOT INTERRUPT ME, CAPTAIN KAJAN-”
Benjamin had, while this discussion continued at its eighty-decibel clip, skulked around the wrench-wielding strongman. Between yelling back at Jorgensaard and admiring the magnificent shade of beetroot the man’s ears were turning, Tor momentarily caught his breath and gave Jetsam another fleeting look. He still couldn’t quite keep the confusion off his face at the bizaare sight that was Benjamin’s appearance, but flicked a meaningful finger in the direction of the double doors – the easiest route for the pangolin to leave the hangar.
The man was lost, scared- “-AT LEAST I’M NOT LIKE TALKING TO A BRICK WALL THAT YELLS, SIR-” and above all, deeply mistrustful. If Jetsam couldn’t trust the Telpori-Han enough to stop and listen to him, there was no way he’d go as far as to believe his explanations. Time was of the essence, Tor admitted, but as far as he knew the contestant in the most danger was Scofflaw (if Kerak caught the portly bastard). Which would make his efforts to bring Benjamin up to speed slightly less urgent, in the event they were transported elsewhere.
Jetsam caught Tor’s signal, but made no acknowledgement or thanks as he slunk through the doorway out of sight. His gaze never left the two arguing men, as though he expected them to pounce upon his first moment of inattention. The tangle of corridors beckoned, and the pangolin resumed his loping canter, until he’d disappeared beyond Tor’s range of hearing-
“AND FRANKLY YOU’VE GOT A LOT OF NERVE, SON, TO BE CRITICISING MY WORK!”
Jorgensaard huffed, and stopped standing on his toes (which he’d somewhat unnecessarily begun doing while really getting into the swing of his diatribe). Tor, trying to pick up Jetsam’s footsteps now that the bellowing right by his ears had stopped, finally mustered a filthy look for the foreman. To his surprise, the man was grinning. His upper lip twitched, as though he’d had a moustache to accentuate the movement until that run-in with an over-zealous barber-lobster last week on the daily commute.
“Good pair of lungs on you,”approved the foreman. He extended his beefy hand, which the consummate businessman grasped almost automatically. “Tor Kajan, was it? Aldred Jorgensaard, Head of Operations and Research in this fine Unity Plant. And pretty much every other position, I guess,”added Jorgensaard as an afterthought, regarding the meadow beyond Tor (it was baying for blood and, if the two ringing-eared men were hearing it right, mustard). The Telpori-Han took the opportunity to extract his hand from the crush-grip.
“Anyway! I’m certain it’ll be a most intriguing tale, so Mr. Kajan: how in the name of Lord Mephistopolous did you end up in my factory?”
“I. Uh.”The man had gone from a shouting match to polite conversation faster than the Telpori-Han could feasibly process it. Mercifully for Tor’s sanity, though, Unity seemed to be doing a decent job of keeping things tidy for now. Even the man-eating meadow was quieting. Jorgensaard frowned, looking at his companion.
“Simple enough question, sir. Did Chaos send you here, or did you use Chaos to get here? I don’t recognise you from the agency.”
“I… look, I may as well be honest with you, Mr. Jorgensaard.”Tor sighed as he figured out the most concise method to explain this; he’d need to repeat it all to Jetsam later anyway.“I and seven other individuals were plucked from our homeworlds by an entity, referred to only as the Fool. He selected this world as the first location for… a battle to the death. Some of the other contestants are trying to fix the main generator right now, but I-” here Tor gave a wary look around the hangar as though expecting Scofflaw to be eavesdropping “-that ‘prickly bloody anteater’, as you called it, is one of the contestants – except he’s been dragged between worlds well before he was entered into this ‘battle’. He doesn’t realise he’s in a fight to the death, and I need to tell him. That’s the essence of it.”
Jorgensaard listened expressionlessly until Tor finished, then proceeded to roar with laughter for a good twenty seconds. He cut it off with brutal terseness and fixed Tor with a piercing expression. “No. No, Mr. Kajan. I assure you, I’ve heard - and been - the protagonist of all manner of fantastical stories since I began this line of work. Having said that, nothing – and I mean nothing - was as ridiculous a tale as the one you just tried to spin me.”
The Telpori-Han was astounded. For about two seconds. Then he got angry. Again.
“How can you live in a place like this and claim I’m sounding ridiculous!?”
Jorgensaard grunted dismissively. “Simple. That bear… scales… thing. A Chaos Entity, through and through. Of Vio. No disguising the fact it was born without rhyme and bred with even less reason.”
Tor snarled with frustration.
“That’s because Jetsam is-”
“Enough.”Jorgensaard flicked some catch on the wrench, prompting its jaw to drop half a foot and begin focussing another blast of channeled Chaos. Tor looked tempted to argue, gave the formidable slab of metal in the foreman’s fist a look of loathing, and clamped his mouth shut. A little whine preceded the de-greening of the spanner, which Jorgensaard clutched a little uncomfortably. He still held it at the ready, though.
“Maybe that anteater was right about intruders… but I can deal with you all later. You mentioned the main generator was deteriorating?” Tor nodded, wary. “Right. I’ve got to fix that, then. You’re coming with me, Mr. Kajan.”
“I need to-”The foreman cut off Tor’s protest with a wave of his hand, after adjusting something on his belt and fiddling with his spanner.
“No. Arguments. This is supposed to be a secure facility, confound it. If you and your friends’ll help me, that’s well and good, but-”
The neon green braid, previously seen diving through the concrete floor, poked its sheepshank head out of the closed office door and took a look around, before lunging for the pair. Jorgensaard held that thought, caught the lance of energy smartly in the jaws of the spanner without a second glance, before swinging the whole arrangement overhead and letting the tail end lasso the doorhandle. A tug on the door opened it onto a catwalk, which certainly wasn’t the same room visible through the office window. That now featured an idyllic landscape with beach balls raining all over it.
“After you, sir.”
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow